Allyson Ryan and George Newbern alternate narrating this story, set in Nazi-occupied Austria and in California 50 years later. In 1989, Katie discovers an unsent, unopened Nazi-era letter from Austria in her elderly father’s stamp collection, setting her on quest to find the recipient. In 1938, Kristoff, an apprentice to a Jewish stamp engraver, falls in love with his boss’s daughter, who is involved with the Nazi resistance. Listeners will forgive the unevenly accented dialogue and inconsistent portrayals as they become invested in Ryan’s and Newbern’s animated performances, which stress the emotional impact of the two storylines, the mystery of the letter, and the surprising connection between Katie and Kristoff. Betsy Stuxness and Jennifer Rubins read two small sections from the viewpoints of Austrian sisters. C.B.L. © AudioFile 2017, Portland, Maine
The Lost Letter: A Novel
Narrated by Allyson Ryan, George Newbern, Jennifer Rubins, Betsy Struxness
Jillian CantorUnabridged — 9 hours, 5 minutes
The Lost Letter: A Novel
Narrated by Allyson Ryan, George Newbern, Jennifer Rubins, Betsy Struxness
Jillian CantorUnabridged — 9 hours, 5 minutes
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Overview
A historical novel of love and survival inspired by real resistance workers during World War II Austria, and the mysterious love letter that connects generations of Jewish families. A*heart-breaking, heart-warming*read for fans of The Women in the Castle, Lilac Girls, and Sarah's Key.
Author of the forthcoming In Another Time.
*
Austria, 1938. Kristoff is a young apprentice to a master Jewish stamp engraver. When his teacher disappears during Kristallnacht, Kristoff is forced to engrave stamps for the Germans, and simultaneously works alongside Elena, his beloved teacher's fiery daughter, and with the Austrian resistance to send underground messages and forge papers. As he falls for Elena amidst the brutal chaos of war, Kristoff must find a way to save her, and himself.
Los Angeles, 1989. Katie Nelson is going through a divorce and while cleaning out her house and life in the aftermath, she comes across the stamp collection of her father, who recently went into a nursing home. When an appraiser, Benjamin, discovers an unusual World War II-era Austrian stamp placed on an old love letter as he goes through her dad's collection, Katie and Benjamin are sent on a journey together that will uncover a story of passion and tragedy spanning decades and continents, behind the just fallen Berlin Wall.
*
A romantic, poignant and addictive novel,*The Lost Letter shows the lasting power of love.
Editorial Reviews
04/17/2017
Cantor uses a mysterious Austrian stamp of an edelweiss hidden within a church steeple as the subject of her affecting new novel, which unfolds in dual story lines. For what reason was the flower added, after Hitler annexed Austria, to a stamp already in circulation? Why, as Katie Nelson discovers decades later, did her increasingly senile father seek out the stamp, still affixed to an unopened letter? Furthermore, what explains his outburst upon learning that Katie took his collection to appraiser Benjamin Grossman? It’s all about the symbolism of the edelweiss, “an expression of love proof of unusual daring,” and a gentile artist named Kristoff, who lived with his mentor, renowned Jewish engraver Frederick Faber. The Faber family’s Judaism, like the intense faith of Katie’s father, stands in stark contrast to her secular lifestyle in 1989 Los Angeles. As Katie and Benjamin methodically trace the stamp’s history and the letter’s intended recipient, the Berlin Wall is being pulled down. Its destruction is a metaphor for the barriers that fall in the story, walls erected within families and built on secrets, barriers created for emotional self-preservation. Cantor (The Hours Count) integrates her historical research well and effectively harnesses the story’s emotional resonance, slowly building tension before resolving the mystery and converging the two story lines. (June)
"I devoured The Lost Letter… an intriguing and very personal story of resistance." —Georgia Hunter, author of We Were the Lucky Ones
"A total page-turner." —New York Magazine
“[A]t the center of the novel are two beautiful love stories involving two seemingly star-crossed couples, whose love overcomes all obstacles…. Getting it right is an art, and Cantor is an artist. She got me from that first page, and I stayed hooked throughout. It’s not just that Cantor kept me interested – she got me involved emotionally with the story.” —Jerusalem Post
"Moving seamlessly between Austria in 1938 and Los Angeles in 1989, this novel connects a grim history to a more hopeful present… Cantor has done her research thoroughly to produce another captivating historical novel. Excellent writing, unusual storytelling, and sympathetic characters make a winning combination." —Kirkus
"Full of heartbreak and tragedy, this novel about love lost and found and the importance of memories, is ultimately uplifting and would be a great choice for readers who enjoy stories set during World War II." —Library Journal
“With beautifully drawn characters and historical details, The Lost Letter is a tender, ravishing story that illuminates the sacrifices of a generation on an achingly human scale. A deeply enthralling, deeply satisfying historical love story.” —Beatriz Williams, New York Times bestselling author of A Hundred Summers and The Wicked City
“A vivid and original book which spans World War II Austria to modern day Los Angeles. In this unforgettable tale of memories, love and reconciliation, Cantor writes with an absorbing voice and keen eye for detail that caught me up in the sweep of history.”
—Pam Jenoff, New York Times bestselling author of The Kommandant’s Girl
“Past and present collide in Jillian Cantor’s latest propulsive and eloquent gem of a novel. Cantor captures the gravity of wartime Europe and combines it with powerful stories of love, loss and self-discovery. The Lost Letter is transporting; its flawless, breathtaking finale will make readers fall deeply in love with this stunning tale.”
—Mary Kubica, New York Times bestselling author of Don't You Cry and The Good Girl
"Dual-narrative novels sometimes favor one story over the other, but Cantor balances both her stories with a deft hand. Her protagonists, Katie and Kristoff, are particularly vivid, but her supporting characters, especially Faber's daughters Elena and Miriam, are also complex and engaging... Cantor's conclusion skillfully draws together two sets of world events—including the fall of the Berlin Wall—and her characters' intertwined personal histories. The Lost Letter is a poignant story of love, sacrifice and the bravery of everyday resistance." —Shelf Awareness
"Cantor uses a mysterious Austrian stamp of an edelweiss hidden within a church steeple as the subject of her affecting new novel, which unfolds in dual story lines.... Cantor integrates her historical research well and effectively harnesses the story’s emotional resonance, slowly building tension before resolving the mystery and converging the two story lines." —Publishers Weekly
"Themes of renewal after adversity and regaining what has been lost reverberate through both the character relationships and the fall of the Berlin Wall. This gives the novel a hopeful, poignant conclusion, guaranteeing appeal for fans of women’s fiction as well as historical fiction." —Booklist
Praise for Jillian Cantor's The Hours Count
“Taut, atmospheric and absorbing, this story provides an intimate window into a world most people only know from the headlines.”
—Christina Baker Kline, New York Times-bestselling author of Orphan Train
“Fraught with tension and wise with empathy, this is the story of a shameful time in our nation’s history, but also of friendship, love, and loyalty.”
—Laura Moriarty, New York Times-bestselling author of The Chaperone
“Utterly gripping and almost unbearably moving. A thought-provoking novel about a terrible aspect of America’s recent past, with the pace of a thriller.”
—Natasha Solomons, New York Times-bestselling author of The House at Tyneford
“A deeply compelling retelling of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg’s famous betrayal. Beautifully written and meticulously researched, this book will leave you wondering about the intersection of truth and politics, responsibility and love, long after you’ve finished reading it.”
—Anton DiSclafani, New York Times-bestselling author of The Yonahlossee Riding Camp for Girls
“Fact and fiction are blended in a gripping tale of guilt, innocence, and heartbreak. I was bowled over by her intimate portrait of women in crisis. Jillian has torn pages straight from the history books and transformed them into a riveting story of intrigue, desire, and hope.”
—David R. Gillham, New York Times-bestselling author of City of Women
“Flawlessly mixes fact and fiction, drawing the reader into the world of the Lower East Side in the fifties—and the lives of accused Communist spies Ethel and Julius Rosenberg. A finely drawn portrait of McCarthy-era America, by turns heartwarming and haunting.”
—Susan Elia MacNeal, New York Times-bestselling author of the Maggie Hope novels
“A gorgeous, thrilling novel.” —Popsugar
“We kind of love historical novels, and Cantor’s is quickly climbing to the top of our all-time faves list. . . .You won’t be able to put it down.” —Glamour
“Cantor mixes fact with fiction to create a moving portrait of two of the most vilified figures in modern history.” —Cosmopolitan
Praise for Jillian Cantor's Margot
“In this novel, a compassionate imagining of what might have happened had Margot Frank survived, Jillian Cantor provides more than a wistful what-if. She gives us a tour of the emotional nether land so often occupied by those who have survived the unimaginable and an example of extreme sibling competition—and love.”
—Jenna Blum, New York Times bestselling author of Those Who Save Us
“A convincing, engaging might-have-been. Frankophiles will want to dig in.”
—People, 3.5 stars
“Inventive… Cantor’s ‘what-if’ story combines historical fiction with mounting suspense and romance, but above all, it is an ode to the adoration and competition between sisters.”
—O, the Oprah Magazine
04/01/2017
In Cantor's latest novel (after The Hours Count and Margot), a mysterious letter with an unusual stamp reveals a family secret from World War II. Katie Nelson's life is not going well when she delivers her father's stamp collection to an appraiser in 1989 Los Angeles. Her father is suffering from Alzheimer's, and she has spent the past year getting him settled into an assisted-living facility. Her husband, who also happens to be her boss, has filed for divorce. The appraiser, Benjamin, however, does find one possible treasure—a letter with a German stamp from Nazi-occupied Austria, containing a hidden edelweiss flower. When Katie mentions this letter to her father, his agitated reaction propels her and Benjamin on a search for its meaning. Little does Katie realize that the quest for both the intended letter recipient and the stampmaker will lead her to her own family history. VERDICT Full of heartbreak and tragedy, this novel about love lost and found and the importance of memories, is ultimately uplifting and would be a great choice for readers who enjoy stories set during World War II. [See Prepub Alert, 1/8/17.]—Catherine Coyne, Mansfield P.L., MA
Allyson Ryan and George Newbern alternate narrating this story, set in Nazi-occupied Austria and in California 50 years later. In 1989, Katie discovers an unsent, unopened Nazi-era letter from Austria in her elderly father’s stamp collection, setting her on quest to find the recipient. In 1938, Kristoff, an apprentice to a Jewish stamp engraver, falls in love with his boss’s daughter, who is involved with the Nazi resistance. Listeners will forgive the unevenly accented dialogue and inconsistent portrayals as they become invested in Ryan’s and Newbern’s animated performances, which stress the emotional impact of the two storylines, the mystery of the letter, and the surprising connection between Katie and Kristoff. Betsy Stuxness and Jennifer Rubins read two small sections from the viewpoints of Austrian sisters. C.B.L. © AudioFile 2017, Portland, Maine
2017-03-21
Moving seamlessly between Austria in 1938 and Los Angeles in 1989, this novel connects a grim history to a more hopeful present.In Austria, the Nazis begin to roust Jews from positions, homes, and safety. Kristoff, an 18-year-old German, finds an apprenticeship with Frederick Faber, a Jewish engraver of stamps and documents. Frederick, his wife, and their two daughters, 13-year-old Miriam and 17-year-old Elena, become the family Kristoff never had. He comes to respect their traditions and forms a special bond with Elena, who, unbeknownst to her father, secretly practices engraving with Kristoff, a skill they use to forge papers to get Jews to safer countries. In present-day LA, Katie Nelson, soon to be divorced, is cleaning her apartment and finds the stamp collection her father passed along to her when he went into a home for Alzheimer's care. Determined to find something of value in his collection—her father always said he hoped to find a "gem"—she consults Benjamin Grossman, a philatelist, who unearths an unopened letter with a unique Austrian stamp. Benjamin keeps Katie apprised of the results of his research. They discover that Frederick Faber engraved the stamp and that it is addressed to one of his daughters, Fraulein Faber, with no first name. Benjamin finds the former Fraulein Faber in Cardiff, Wales, and he plans a trip to visit her, hoping to unravel the mystery of the stamp in which a tiny symbol is engraved. He offers Katie a ticket—he has lots of free miles—to accompany him. They hope to return home with at least a story about the stamp for her father to enjoy before his memory is totally gone. The past gives up its secrets reluctantly but give them up it does. Katie's father truly has found his gem, and eventually Katie recognizes hers. Cantor (The Hours Count, 2015, etc.) has mixed historical background with fictional characters for a believable, engaging tale in which the past indeed reconciles with the present. Cantor has done her research thoroughly to produce another captivating historical novel. Excellent writing, unusual storytelling, and sympathetic characters make a winning combination.
Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940172110061 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Penguin Random House |
| Publication date: | 06/13/2017 |
| Edition description: | Unabridged |
Read an Excerpt
***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected copy proof***
Austria, 1938
At first, Kristoff didn’t understand the power of the burin. He didn’t know that the one small simple-looking engraving tool could eventually save them. Or get them killed. All he knew, in the beginning, was that the burin was impossible to use precisely, and that he was not naturally suited for metal, the way he’d always been for canvas.
He didn’t like the way it felt in his hand either. Oddly heavy, hard to maneuver. He felt it should create lines with the agility of a brush, or even charcoal, and yet his hand kept getting stuck, and he became repeatedly frustrated at his inability to achieve the perfect lines and grooves in the metal the way Frederick showed him. He worried that Frederick would fire him as his apprentice, and then he would have to find not only another job, but also another place to live. As Frederick’s apprentice, Kristoff had been receiving room and board with the Faber family in their beautiful home on the out- skirts of Grotsburg, as well as five schilling a week. But most important, the opportunity to learn the trade that Frederick Faber was known for throughout Austria: engraving. His greatest creation was the country’s most popular—and, Kristoff would argue, artistically perfect—postage stamp, the 12 Groschen Edelweiss. The stamp was a stunning replica of the pure white f lower, and Frederick had both designed and engraved it himself in 1932.
Kristoff remembered placing that stamp on a letter he’d written to his mother once, but had never sent. He could not mail a letter to someone who didn’t exist, or whose existence and location he could never determine in spite of his best efforts. But even as a young boy of thirteen, Kristoff had admired the artistry of that stamp, the perfect bows of the petals. He’d always wanted to make a living as an artist. So when he’d heard the rumor last fall from another street artist in Vienna, that Frederick Faber, the Frederick Faber, was searching for a new apprentice, Kristoff had packed up his art supplies and spent most of his small savings to hire a ride to take him the two hundred kilometers out to Grotsburg. And when he’d arrived, he’d convinced Frederick to give him the job after he showed Frederick some of his charcoal sketches of Vienna.
“You have a good eye,” Frederick had said, staring at what Kristoff thought was his most noteworthy sketch: Stephansdom, elaborate in all its detail of the two wide turrets in the front. Frederick had raised a thick gray eyebrow. “But what do you know of metal, my boy?”
“I’m a quick learner,” Kristoff had promised, and that had seemed enough to convince Frederick to take him on. Though, so far, this had turned out not to be true, at least where engraving was concerned.
Though he didn’t master the burin right away, Kristoff did learn two things in his first few weeks working for Frederick. One, Frederick was older than Kristoff had initially thought, and sometimes his hands began to shake when he tried to teach Kristoff how to use the engraving tools. Frederick had told Kristoff he needed an apprentice because there was business enough for two master engravers to work on his stamp assignments for Austria, but now Kristoff suspected the real reason was that Frederick might not be able to continue on with his trade much longer. And Frederick didn’t have any sons.
That was the second thing Kristoff learned. Frederick had two daughters: Elena, who was seventeen, a year younger than Kristoff, and who reminded Kristoff of the edelweiss with her snowy skin, waves of long light brown hair, and bright green eyes. And Miriam, who was thirteen. If Elena was a flower, then Miriam was the buzzing bee who wouldn’t leave the flower alone. Or, as Mrs. Faber called her with an exasperated roll of her green eyes, a flibbertigibbet. But Kristoff still found her amusing, even when her family did not.
Kristoff quickly became accustomed to life in Grotsburg, where the world was green and very quiet, and instead of buildings and throngs of people, he woke up each morning to a view of the forest and rolling hills. But even more, Kristoff reveled in the warmth of the Fabers’ dining room, of the fragrant smell of Mrs. Faber’s stews, of the bread they broke on Friday nights in the glow of their candles. The challah was a savory bread, and Kristoff had never tasted anything like it growing up in the orphanage in Vienna, where the nuns had led him to believe there was only one religion anyway. Not that he was necessarily a believer. Kristoff was much more drawn to the Fabers, the light and wholeness of their family, than he had ever been to God or the institutional church.
“Miriam, sit still,” Mrs. Faber chastised, one night a few weeks after Kristoff had begun his apprenticeship. Almost a month in, Kristoff was still failing miserably at the metalwork. Though earlier that day he had impressed Frederick with his sketch of the hillside, and even hours later, he was still basking in Frederick’s compliment that it was “not half bad.”
“I’m sitting still, Mother,” Miriam said in a singsong voice, bouncing slightly in her chair and casting a sideways smile at Kristoff.
Kristoff hid his own smile in his spoonful of soup. He glanced at Elena, but she refused to look at him. He had yet to determine whether she was shy or rude, whether she acted so standoffish around everyone, or whether it was just around him.
“Elena, dear. Go fetch another log or two for the fire. It’s chilly in here,” Mrs. Faber said. It was the deepest, coldest part of winter, and the Faber’s three-story wooden house was drafty. Kristoff ’s room in the attic had a small woodstove, but he had to huddle under two blankets to stay warm at night. Still, it far surpassed the orphanage, his bed in a row of ten others in a large cold room, and only a thin blanket to cover him. And Mrs. Faber’s cooking was much better than the nuns’.
Elena put her soup spoon down and stood. Kristoff tried to meet her eyes again, but she wouldn’t look up.
“I can help.” Kristoff stood, before he lost his nerve, and Elena turned toward him. At least he’d caught her attention.
Her beautiful face sunk into a frown. “It’s not—” she began.
Mrs. Faber spoke over her: “Thank you, Kristoff. I’m sure Elena would appreciate that.”
He smiled at Mrs. Faber and followed Elena. They went wordlessly through the kitchen, out the back door, toward the woodpile, which rested across the Fabers’ sprawling yard in front of Frederick’s workshop. The earth was frozen, and the ground crunched beneath their feet; the night air was biting and neither Kristoff nor Elena had grabbed a coat. Elena shivered, and her hair fell into her eyes as she reached down to grab the wood. Kristoff resisted the urge to pull it back, and instead reached down and took the log from her hands.
“Really,” she said sharply, pulling it back and holding it toward her chest. “I’m just fine. I’ve been doing this on my own long before you came here. I don’t need your help.”
“But I want to help,” he said. “And it’s no trouble.” Elena glared, and he was suddenly certain that she was not shy—she just didn’t like him. And this realization bothered him. He had the urge to fix it.
But before he could say more, Elena turned and began to walk back toward the house. Kristoff picked up another log from the pile and ran after her. He caught her just before they reached the back door, and he reached for her shoulder. “Have I done something?” he asked her, slightly out of breath from running in the cold. His words came out jagged and smoky against the chilly air.
“Something?” she echoed back.
“To upset you?”
“Why should you think that?” Her breath made frosty rings in the air, and she shivered again.
“Never mind,” he said. “We should get back inside. You’re freezing.”
“Look,” she said. “It’s just that we’re not friends, okay. We’re not going to be friends. I don’t expect you to be here long. They never are.”
“They?” he asked, considering, for the first time, Frederick’s last apprentice, or maybe his last few? Were they all terrible with the burin, like him, and promptly fired?
But Elena didn’t answer. She carried the wood inside and placed it into the fire. Kristoff did the same, and then he excused himself to go to bed. Up in the attic, wrapped in two blankets, he took out his sketch pad and a nib of charcoal. He found himself sketching Elena’s angry green eyes and wondering how long this place would stay his home.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The Lost Letter"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Jillian Cantor.
Excerpted by permission of Penguin Publishing Group.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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